the real subject is always you

Would rather have imitated

somebody else’s perceived representation

of what waited to be realized.

I was suddenly the visionary glimpse of a future,

everybody remembered missing.

Everybody loves a seer, I thought.

And things got dark pretty quickly after that.

Like the moment I had to admit that

my day just plain sucked.

I thought my throat would close

and that my last thought would be my last breath,

self contained and deafeningly bright

at last.